


Moving Clocks Run Slow

by Bluehaven4220



Series: Benny and June: Not Like the Movies [3]
Category: due South
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Teenage Parents, Things that should have been but weren't said, children and grandchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluehaven4220/pseuds/Bluehaven4220
Summary: Constable Benton Fraser runs into his father, Sergeant Robert Fraser, in a tiny laundromat while home on leave for Christmas, three years after his father cut off contact with him. His father has a request. Benton is not best pleased.In the same universe as "The Water's Edge and the Harbour Town", "Comes and Goes in Waves", and "The Wishing Doll"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Currently unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

It was a very quiet morning in the only laundromat in Fort Norman as I waited for the load of colours I’d brought in to finish their cycle in the dryer. Aside from Millie Palluqtuq, the woman who ran the laundromat, I was the only one there. Although that should not have been a surprise. Business was generally slow in the middle of the day on a Monday, as people were generally at work. The thoughts in my head were only interrupted by the clock ticking. They seem to run so slowly while you’re waiting for something to finish or to get going.

My thoughts were further interrupted as the bell above the door dinged, just as the buzzer on the dryer went off. Grateful for something to do, I moved my laundry from the dryer to the folding table. While the Amaruq household did indeed have a washer and dryer, to help save on water and heating, I often did my laundry away from the house, since Rebecca and Henry needed every penny they could save in order to care for Abigail. I sent money back and came to visit as much as possible, but, as I said, every little bit helped.

“Hello son, can I come in?”

I looked up from folding my laundry to see my father, Sergeant Robert Fraser, standing the doorway. I felt my mouth drop open; I hadn’t seen him in over three years. Not since before June and I had discovered she was pregnant. Per my grandmother’s instructions, I’d written to him to tell him.  Aside from two or three letters while I was at Depot, letters that I did not respond to, I’d barely heard from him since.

“If you like, Sergeant, I cannot stop you.”

“Oh son, none of that, there’s no one else here. Besides, we’re  both on leave . I’m your father right now, not your superior officer.” He stepped into the room and sat down at the same bench where I was folding my shirts.

Well obviously not. We were meeting in a laundromat in the middle of Fort Norman, both on leave for Christmas. Not that he’d be staying for long, something to do in Aklavik, apparently. “You’re not my superior officer,” I smoothed out the front of an older t-shirt I used as part of my pajamas. “There’s probably something in the handbook regarding nepotism if that were the case.”

“ Oh come on now,  you want to talk semantics?”

“Well if we’re being honest, Dad, I don’t really want to talk to you at all,” I rolled the tops of my socks to preserve the elastics and set them on the folding table beside my shirts. “I ’ve barely seen or heard from you in nearly three years, and it’s only now that I’m away from my family that you decide it’s time to talk?”

“ _ We _ are family, Benton, you didn’t just appear out of thin air.”

Good point well made,  and  one that I chose to ignore. I bit my tongue and grabbed another shirt, pretending that I cared very much about how it was folded, refusing to make eye contact. 

“So, how is the baby?”

My eyebrows shot into my hairline. Robert Fraser was barely interested in me, why the sudden questions about the granddaughter he had never met?

“First off, she’s not a baby any longer, Dad,” I picked up the pile of folded laundry and placed it back in the basket I’d brought it in. “She’s a toddler, and her name is Abby.”

“Abby?”

“Short for Abigail, surely you could have figured that out.”

“Oh…” he looked stunned for a second, as though he could not believe I had a daughter, and not a son.  “Why’d you call her Abigail? I would’ve thought maybe Caroline, after your mother.”

“Because Abigail suits her.” I’d never tell him the real reason.

“Well, it is a very nice name. Abigail Fraser… has a nice ring to it. Could I meet her?”

“No,” I didn’t even have to think about it. “Why on earth would you even want to see her? Why do you suddenly care about your family at all? You dumped me on your parents, then barely see us from one end of the year to the next. You pay no attention to two generations of your family - I don't want you upsetting my daughter and messing up a third generation.” I hadn’t realized how long I’d been holding that in, and I felt my shoulders relax at having told him.

"Well she's my grandchild."

I couldn’t believe my ears. I was so shocked at his presumption I nearly dropped the laundry basket. "Uh no. You haven't earned the right to call her your grandchild. When's her birthday? What is her middle name? Did Grandmother tell you who is looking after her while I'm at Depot?"

Dad shook his head.

"Ha, I thought not,” I readjusted the laundry basket and gripped it so hard I felt my fingers straining. “You didn't even write back to me when I told you my wife had died! Why should I let you around my daughter?"

Dad looked like a fish struggling for air on a line. “I’m sorry, Ben. I truly am. But maybe now that you’re a little bit older, you can see it from my perspective.  The whole thing was such a shock I did the only thing I thought I could, and that was to let you land on your own two feet. How else were you going to take responsibility?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?” I slammed the laundry basket on the folding table, years of repressed anger bubbling to the surface. “Take responsibility? If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. I married June, because I…” I choked. “I wanted to do the right thing. I’ve had to fight for the privilege of raising my daughter, because my brother-in-law doesn’t believe I have any business raising an Inuit child when I’m not Inuit. The fight was so bad we were brought before the Elders, and only then, because I am Abby’s father and I was married to June, did Innusiq accept that I was going to keep her. The only reason I still  _ have _ my daughter is because the Elders told me I could raise her, as long as June’s parents are involved.”

I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out what to say next. I had him beat, and I think he knew that. He could not use the ‘teaching me responsibility’ card any longer, because I’d been doing so all along.

“I didn’t realize…”

“Of course you didn’t,” I cut him off. “Despite the fact that I was sixteen, June and Abigail were the best things that ever happened to me, and if you can’t see that, then I can’t help you.” I made sure my face was carefully blank. “Now if you’ll excuse me, this is clearly a waste of my time. I need to get home. I have a daughter whom I have not seen in about six weeks, and I’d like to spend as much time with her as I can before I fly back to Regina.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I pushed open the front door just as Millie poked her head around the corner to see what all the fuss was about, and made my way back home. Rebecca and Henry had graciously offered to let me stay after June had died, as they had agreed they would not abandon their granddaughter. As a result, Abby and I now had to share June’s old bedroom; there simply was no other choice.

That bedroom turned nursery had been rearranged as Abigail grew. Henry and I had built an armoire wardrobe and moved everything that had previously been in the closet into that wardrobe. After removing the closet doors, we’d moved Abigail’s crib into the empty closet space, and she slept in there. Needing to make use of all available space, we’d re-purposed the closet doors and built shelves to house her stuffed animals and soft toys on the wall, and then installed a fold-down changing table, similar to a Murphy bed.

However, now that she was nearing three and in need of a “big girl bed”, we’d donated her crib and the bed June and I had shared to another family in need, taken down the changing table as there was no longer a need for it and had installed two actual Murphy beds. Mine could be folded up and out of the way while I was away training, and Abigail had the room to herself. When I was home, she understood that in order for the sleeping arrangements to work, she needed to make sure her toys were cleaned up before going to bed, and we had all grown quite comfortable with said arrangements. I hoped to be able to find a house for us soon after graduation, wherever I was posted, so Rebecca and Henry could have their home back.

I must have had a face like thunder when I came in the door, as Rebecca immediately took the laundry basket from me, sat me down and shoved a hot cup of tea in my hands. Apparently, hot tea cured all ills.

“Is Abby asleep?”

“She just went for a nap, and thank goodness for that doll Martha made for her. Now she won’t go to sleep without it. After your homecoming, she truly believes that doll has magical powers.”

“As she should,” I nodded. “That was an inspired idea.”

“You know, while I do like Martha, I always saw her as a very prim and proper Victorian, raising you as she did. I wonder how she thought of it.”

“I’m pleased she did,” I nodded and sipped my tea. Sighing, I looked at my mother-in-law, who was looking worried. “Rebecca, could I ask you for advice?”

“You can ask me anything, Benton, you know that.”

I nodded, rolling my bottom lip over my teeth. “If you have someone in your life you’re trying to forgive, but no matter how much you try, you just can’t forgive them. What do you do?”

“Ah…” she nodded, sitting down beside me at the table, laid her hand over mine. “You’re meaning your father, aren’t you?”

I gulped, suddenly feeling like I was twelve again, that horrid sick feeling after I’d shot that caribou rising in the back of my throat. “I ran into him at the laundromat. He wants to meet Abby.”

“I see,” she tightened her hold on my hand. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him no. I don’t want him to come into her life and she grows attached, only for him to leave again. That would break Abby’s heart, and she doesn’t deserve that.”   

“I agree,” Rebecca answered. “But is it really in her best interest to not know her grandfather?”

“He doesn’t deserve that title,” I was surprised to not be spitting acid. “He didn’t even know her name. Called her ‘the baby’, and you and I both know Abby will be the first to tell you she is not a baby. He doesn’t know her birthday, he doesn’t know I’ve had to leave her here with you while I’m away, he didn’t  bother to write back to me when I told him about June!” My body felt too tightly wound. “Rebecca, he’s barely spoken to me or asked me about my life in the last three years because he doesn’t  _ want  _ to know. He wants the title of grandfather, but not the work that goes into it.”

She was silent, waiting until I’d nearly exhausted myself, my shoulders heaving as the weight of those words shifted off my chest.

“Drink your tea,” she nodded at my abandoned tea mug. She watched as I obeyed her. “Well, I can see why he might be asking now, and I can understand why you’d be hesitant, and I’d say you’d be right.”

“I hear a  _ but  _ coming.”

“But…” she paused, reaching forward and smoothing my hair out of my face. “Have you considered that this might be his way of apologizing?”

I scoffed. “He has a very strange way of apologizing.” Looking back, he very well could have been trying, but it wasn’t enough. “How do you make amends for dumping your son on your parents and barely speaking to the three of them from one end of the year to the other?”

She pulled me to her and held me close. “It sounds as though you’ve held this in for quite a while,” she ran her hand over my hair. “You’ve had to grow up much quicker than anyone expected, Benton, and you’ve done a marvelous job. But sometimes you forget that you’re still a very young adult. You have a lot resting on your shoulders.”

I sighed against her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.”

“And that’s okay,” Rebecca whispered. “You’ve told him no, and that’s perfectly fine for now. No one said you can’t change your mind later on.”

I held her tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you and Abigail,” Rebecca soothed. “You’re part of my family.”

When I’d finally gotten myself together, I heard the sound of little footsteps making their way to the living room from the nursery. I looked over to see my daughter toddling toward me.  

”Daddy?” she poked my knee.

I bent down and picked her up, setting her on my knee. “Hi baby girl,” I bent and kissed her sleep-reddened cheek, still warm from lying on her pillow. “Didn’t your grandmother just put you down for a nap?”

“Heard the door open,” she answered, yawning. “You back from washing clothes?”

“Yes, Daddy’s back from washing clothes,” I nodded as she turned her upper body and wrapped her arms around my neck in a hug. “I’m still here, Abby. You don’t have to worry.”

“Okay…” she snuggled in close. “You sad?”

I’d once read that you should never conceal emotions from your children, whether good or bad. In being open, they learned to understand why they might feel a certain way.

“A little bit, sweetheart,” I answered. I might as well be honest.

She stuck her lip out dramatically. “I kiss and make it better?”

“Sure, right here,” I pointed to my cheek.

She did as she offered and buried her face against my neck. “Love you, Daddy, no more sad, okay?”

“I love you too, baby girl. All better now, thank you.”

A few minutes after that, she was snoozing in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder as I sat quietly with Rebecca at the kitchen table.

_ She’s all I have left of June _ , I thought to myself.  _ And I’ll be damned if I’m my father’s son in this instance. Abigail deserves more than that. She will always deserve more than that. _

I could only hope that I was doing the right thing.   


End file.
